


where we wake up tomorrow

by Archadian_Skies



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Episode Ignis DLC, Episode Ignis Spoilers, Gen, M/M, Stress Baking, World of Ruin, ravus doesn't know how to Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-07
Updated: 2018-03-07
Packaged: 2019-03-28 05:23:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13897176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Archadian_Skies/pseuds/Archadian_Skies
Summary: Ignis is the Royal Advisor with no royal to advise, and Ravus is royalty with no advisor. In the starless, unending nights in the world of ruin, fate haphazardly throws them together.It’s been two years and seven months since Ignis moved to Tenebrae, and he still isn’t sure where he stands with Ravus. Baking at 2am won't solve anything, but old habits can unexpectedly uncover something new.





	where we wake up tomorrow

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ingu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ingu/gifts).



> For the tumblr prompt The way you said "I love you" - Too quick, mumbled into your scarf

Tenebrae gleams blue in the long endless night, blue like the sylleblossoms and just as defiant. Fenestala Manor, reclaimed and rebuilt, jutts out like a glacier amidst the black starless sky. The marble is veined with the Oracle’s magic, Lunafreya’s magic, strengthened like the havens dotted around Eos. The long lineage of Oracles have inlaid their magic in the very foundations of the city, and it affords them protection from the ruined world beyond the Zoldara Henge.

The blood of the Oracle now runs only through one other: the eldest son of Sylva Nox Fleuret, crowned King of Tenebrae, first of his name, first and last of the title. Tenebrae has known no Kings before him, and will bow to none after. Turbulent is the time they live in, but turbulent is all Ravus knows life to be.

All that was joyous in him died with his mother and all that was hopeful in him died with his sister. He was never meant to be King but someone must lead their people, and the Oracle’s blood sings true in his veins. He does not wear the glacian crown, it sits on the throne and he prefers to stand beside it. He does not rule in absolute power, he defers to the Parliament now set up to represent the people. He has always been a military man, not a monarch.

Ignis knows this, and gives counsel as well as he can. He is the Royal Advisor with no Lucian Royal to advise, not when Noctis slumbers within the cradle of the Crystal absorbing its strength until his return. And so Ignis stays in Tenebrae, helping Ravus establish a parliamentary system, helping him make the transition from High Commander to King. He does not know how long Noctis will lie dormant, but he does know people cannot remain scattered and unguided for long.

And so Ignis stays, and the long long hours spent working earns him a room in the Manor so it is easier for him to be fetched when needed. Ravus tells him he has room to spare. Those who once occupied these rooms are long dead.

Contact with the others is sparse, and Ignis feels their absence like three separate holes in his heart. He misses them. He misses Gladiolus’ grounding presence, Prompto’s cheer, and Noctis’ confidence in him. He wonders if they miss him too. 

It’s been three years since they parted ways after Noctis climbed into the Crystal. Some nights he swears his eyes ache with the ice hot flame of the Lucii. Other nights he finds himself in the kitchens, hands moving on their own if only to soothe himself with the familiarity of routine. 

He bakes chiffon cake because the smell makes him think of his uncle’s smile and the innocent days at the Citadel under his tutelage. 

“It is two in the morning, Scientia.”

“I am aware, your Majesty.” Ignis responds to the voice behind him, spooning freshly whipped cream onto the plate. “You seem to be awake at this hour too.”

Ravus gives an exasperated sigh. “It is hard to sleep when the days and nights look the same.” 

“Perhaps tea and cake shall soothe both our nerves.” He portions off another slice of cake and sets it on a plate with a dollop of cream. “I confess I had not thought this far ahead. At times like these I find myself falling back to old habits and end up making far too much.”

“You only know how to cook for four.” Ravus takes the offered plate. A statement, not sharp with hurtful intent but it wounds him all the same.

“Yes.”

The King’s brows draw together in irritation, directed at himself- not Ignis. “I did not- what I mean to say is-”

“It’s alright.” Ignis interjects. “You still stop to the room on your right every morning on your way to breakfast.” Lunafreya’s bedroom. “We are weary souls, Ravus. Sometimes habits are the only comforts we possess.”

A look of grief washes over his face, and it takes him a moment to steel his jaw and banish it. He draws his posture up into that of a King and not a grieving brother, though it seems comically too much when all he does next is take a fork to the cake.

It’s been two years and seven months since he moved to Tenebrae, and Ignis still isn’t sure where he stands with Ravus. 

There have been nights in the royal chambers where they’ve argued and shouted and cursed. There have been nights where grief and exhaustion were cast aside in favour of rage. And yet there have been moments like these, where the world narrows down to just the two of them haphazardly thrown together by fate.  It seems in moments like these, sharing tea and cake in the kitchens while the world slumbers, there lies something almost fond between them. Something warm and new. Something worth holding on to, worth nurturing until it blossoms.

There is a dab of cream on Ravus’ upper lip, and Ignis reaches to smudge it away with his thumb. 

The world shrinks smaller still, until its entirety encircles the thud of hearts and the flush of cheeks.

Ravus murmurs something, three words, three life-altering words, but it’s trapped in the scarf looped around his neck to chase away the midnight chill.

“Pardon?”

“I said,” he snaps, cheeks rosier, “I’m above you. I am a King, do not touch me so freely.” He sets the empty plate down on the counter and strides to the door. “Get some sleep, we convene with the House of Represenatives later this morning.”

“Yes,” Ignis smiles and Ravus’ breath hitches at the sight, “your Majesty.”


End file.
